


I See All

by wuwu



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 04:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wuwu/pseuds/wuwu
Summary: “We’ve used blindfolds before,” Jumin points out. "I don't see what's new about this."It's not for me," Zen says. "It's for you."“You want to me to wear it… while you watch?” he asks for clarification.aka Zen really has a mirror kink And a thing for blindfolds.





	I See All

There are things that Zen would never admit to, not if you held a billion dollars in front of him, nor if you were to offer him the role of a lifetime. He holds his pride and his dignity on a pedestal, always sure that his persona never falters.

Jumin knows.

He knows how Zen wakes up with dragon breath just like everybody else. He knows that Zen is a messy eater, almost as if he were a toddler. He knows that Zen sometimes puts sugar instead of salt on his food whenever he's exhausted and he knows that Zen will just accept his mistake, too stingy to make more food with a suitable flavor combination.

However, those are all things Zen wouldn't mind sharing with the world should he be prompted to. No, Jumin knows the more intimate parts of Zen that he would rather not even know about himself.

Jumin knows that Zen likes to get busy in the shower when the soap runs over his body, coating his chest and his thighs with bubbles and a slick that makes him feel so raunchy and so _desperate_. Jumin knows that Zen likes to ride Jumin for as long as he possibly can, hair held tight in Jumin’s fist while a cock ring keeps his release at bay, dragging out his rough bounces and luring moans from the pit of his belly. Jumin knows that Zen loves to fuck in front of mirrors, obsessed with the way Jumin’s cock slides in and out of him, the way his own cock leaks and bobs with precome, the way Jumin’s hands grip and squeeze at his nipples, the way his face looks when Jumin brings him to the edge only to inch him further back with a teasing smile.

And God, does he look good.

There are times when Zen will reach his hands out to touch his reflection, fingertips ghosting over the image of his chest while Jumin fucks into him slow and deep. He'll move his face closer and closer until he's mouthing at his own reflection, tongue dancing by its lonesome as he moans out against the mirror, absorbed in the flush on his cheeks and the saliva that rolls down the surface. Sometimes he'll move his hands back to grab at Jumin’s face, bringing his face away from his neck and moving his gaze up so he can stare at the mess he's making of Zen. He'll beg for Jumin to praise him, shuddering at the low whispers that drift by his ear, agreeing with slurred words and a jerky nod. He'd ask Jumin to focus on his own hands as they glide down Zen’s torso, roaming over every muscle and hickey that he can see. The mirror fogs and come makes it sticky and opaque, but Jumin doesn't mind. No, he revels in both the mess that Zen makes and the way he so easily unravels his boyfriend.

* * *

 

“Do you mind if we try something… a little different?” Zen suggests one day, sauntering over to the couch with his hands behind his back. He’s got on a long sleeve shirt with a low vneck, showing off the fading bruises Jumin left just the other day. It’s not the best outfit, but he knows that Jumin likes the way it fits his arms, so he hopes it works in his favor today.

Jumin doesn’t look up from his phone as he responds, preoccupied with reading an article. “If you’re asking me to bottom, we agreed that we were saving that for your birthday.” He scrolls slowly with his index finger, finally looking up after a few moments when he notices Zen still standing in front of him. “What are you playing at, Zen?”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Zen scoffs. He keeps his hands hidden behind his back, suddenly uncomfortable with the attention that he craved.

“You’re wearing that shirt I like,” he comments. “So that means you _really_ want something. Spit it out.” _Damn. That bastard really has no patience._

“I don’t know what you mean,” Zen grumbles, blowing out a harsh breath. Despite his slight annoyance, he climbs into Jumin’s lap, legs on either side of him, and welcomes the feeling of broad hands on his hips. “You like a lot of my shirts.”

“I do,” Jumin agrees. He brings his hands up to glide against Zen’s torso, hands roaming over his waist and settling on his hips once more after a quick run down. The feeling makes Zen dizzy. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this is one that I like. One that you _know_ I like.” Zen rolls his eyes, bringing out a smile from Jumin. “Anyway, would you care to elaborate on your proposal?”

“Yes, I would very much like to,” Zen says. He pulls one of Jumin’s hands away and makes him open it palm up before he brings out his other hand and places a simple, black blindfold in his palm. “I wanna use this next time we-- you know.” He purses his lips and turns away, willing away the heat that builds up in his stomach and the tips of his ears.

“We’ve used blindfolds before,” Jumin points out. He turns it over in his hand, fingers running over the soft fabric. It’s a lot nicer than the ones he usually gets for Zen, he notices. “I don’t see what’s new about this.”

Zen only picks it up out of his hand and stretches it out in front of his eyes. It covers the majority of his vision, the edges of Jumin’s hair the only thing visible to him. “It’s not for me,” he says, slowly moving it closer and closer to cover Jumin’s eyes. “It’s for you.” Jumin lets out a hum so he lowers the blindfold, setting it off to the side. “I was hoping you could wear it the next time we bring out the mirror.”

“You want to me to wear it… while you watch?” he asks for clarification. Jumin uses one hand to cup Zen’s cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye as Zen nods, leaning into his hand.

“I know you won’t get much out of it,” Zen mentions, “But I still wanted to bring it up. Y’know, just in case Mr. Corporate Heir was feeling a bit generous.” He smiles teasingly, laughing at the eye roll he gets in response. “Just… think about it?”

“Mmm, only if you consider wearing those cat ears I bought you,” Jumin retaliates. Despite his words, he can’t help but think about the feeling of Zen’s body straining beneath his touch, moans amplified as his sight is taken away from him, leaving him to rely on his other senses to make do. He’d rather not take on a more submissive role, but the idea is certainly appetizing.

“Don’t even talk about that, you jerk!” Zen cries out, fingers pinching at his nose. “I’m going to sneeze all over your rich boy jacket.”

“You’re such a baby,” Jumin sighs, pulling Zen toward him so he can press a few quick kisses to his jaw.

* * *

 

It takes a few days, but after Jaehee reprimands him for daydreaming during a meeting, he reluctantly gives in to Zen’s request. He’d rather not deal with the slight embarrassment and irritation that follows him after being scolded by his assistant.

 

( _“Mr. Han, is something bothering you?” Jaehee asks, brows knit together._

_"Hm? No, I’m fine.” He shakes his head slowly, speeding up his pace as he makes his way back to his office._

_"Then I suggest you pay attention in these meetings,” she scolds. “You’re lucky that we were only seeing the Oil Prince today. Not all of your business partners are as understanding and friendly with you.”_

_“I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at, Assistant Kang.”_

_“With all due respect, Mr. Han, please stop your daydreaming and do your job properly. I am already busy with your cat clothing line, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t worsen my burden. Please excuse me.”_

_Jumin can’t bring himself to get mad at her._ )

 

The blindfold has been sitting in his drawer for the past few days, folded neatly and hidden beneath a mountain of ties. Jumin pulls it out slowly, eyeing the fabric carefully as he runs it over his hands, admiring the smooth texture. It really is a beauty, but he’d much rather prefer it on Zen, the dark color a stark contrast to both his pale skin and the cream of his hair.

Jumin folds it gingerly and places it in his pocket, quickly shooting a text to Zen.

* * *

 

 

Sliding off his backpack and shoes, Zen makes his way into the penthouse, feet thudding against the tile as he looks for Jumin. The bag rolls off his shoulders, falling down to rest on the floor near the foot of the bed. The room is still quiet, so he calls out to Jumin, peering around the kitchen before he gets an answer.

“I’m in the guest bedroom,” Jumin responds. His voice floats out through the slight crack in the door, pulling him into the room.

“And what is this?” Zen wonders aloud, eyes drawn to the wide expanse of mirrors that cover the entirety of one of the walls. There’s only about three mirrors, but they’re large panels that take up the space allotted from corner to corner. He walks up to one of the panels, arms stretching out as if to test it were actually real instead of just a still image.

“Well, this was something I’ve been planning on for a while,” Jumin answers. “I know you like to practice in front of a mirror, and I hate having to send you back to your place, especially since the one you have is just a vanity.” He crosses his arms with a smile, eyes locking with Zen’s reflection. “Consider it a new practice room.”

“God, if you wanted me to move in all you had to do was ask,” Zen laughs. “I hope you know I’m never leaving your house now.” He spins around and all but launches himself into Jumin’s arms, startling his boyfriend. After the initial second of surprise, he can feel a pair of arms wrap around his waist, pulling him in. “Thank you, really. You always treat me so well.”

Jumin shakes his head in response, burying his face in the junction of Zen’s neck and shoulder as he’s tugged down. “I was saving this for our anniversary, but I couldn’t wait to do this any longer.” His voice is soft as he speaks, sending shivers down Zen’s spine as he listens.

“Couldn’t wait to do what?” he echoes back. He doesn’t receive a verbal answer, but instead a hand that trails down his stomach and fingers at his waistband. Jumin’s fingers dip into his pants, hand moving inward to grip at his thigh. “A-ah, Jumin, what are you doing?” He pulls back and loosens his arms around Jumin’s neck, brows pinched together as he watches Jumin’s eyes rake across his face.

“You wanted to use a blindfold, so I figured we might as well get some more use out of this room,” Jumin replies.

“We can’t do that in here,” Zen huffs. “The floor’s too hard and I don’t need you complaining about your glass bones.”

“I do _not_ have glass bones,” Jumin snorts. “I think you, more than anybody, should know that I’m not delicate.” He continues to rub at Zen’s thigh, thankful that he’s not wearing his (although attractive,) godawful skinny jeans. “We’ll just lay some blankets on the floor.”

“You’re lucky I’m just super turned on right now,” Zen grins. He plants a kiss on Jumin’s cheek before lifting his hand out of his pants, taking a small step back. “Go get some sheets while I tie up my hair.”

As Jumin leaves to fetch some blankets, Zen removes the hair tie from around his wrist and begins to pull his hair up. He brings it up into a high ponytail, hair threading through the hair tie that grows smaller with each loop, until he’s pulled it only halfway through one last time so it bobs and hangs loosely. Satisfied with his work, he looks down to see Jumin attempt to lay the blankets out into a makeshift bed.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Zen asks.

“I’m not sure,” Jumin admits. “I thought I would be able to at least unfold a blanket.” He sighs to himself and raises one of the corners to Zen, silently asking him to do it. Zen can only agree with a shake of his head and thoughts of _gap moe_ running through his mind as he watches Jumin remove his shoes in his peripheral.

Once everything is laid out and Jumin is in his bare feet, Zen pats the space in front of him as he sits, legs spread as he watches Jumin crawl in between them. Things start off slow with Zen pulling Jumin down as he leans back, head bumping against the wall slightly. He lets out a low laugh, eyes screwing shut as Jumin tells him to be careful.

He can feel Jumin’s hands spreading across his stomach, gripping at his waist and thumbs running in smooth circles. Even with a layer of cloth between them, his touch burns, sending him into a fit of relaxation as though he were immersed in a hot tub. Jumin mouths at his jaw, lips pliant and malleable as he leaves a sloppy trail in his wake. Sighing contentedly, Zen wraps his legs around Jumin’s hips, tugging him down impatiently.

“Are you comfortable, princess?” Jumin teases, one eye opening to look up at Zen.

“I’ll be comfortable once you take your shirt off,” Zen spits back. He pulls Jumin up by his shoulders, making quick work of loosening his tie and throwing it off to the side. Jumin only raises an eyebrow as Zen continues to remove his clothes, fingers unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt. Before he can toss those away as well, Jumin removes the blindfold from his pocket and places it within arm’s reach, finally letting Zen slide off his tops.

“You sure do wear a lot of layers,” Zen mutters.

“Like you don’t?” Jumin shoots back.

“Not every day,” Zen huffs. “You need to learn how to relax.”

“I’m relaxing right now.”

“Mm, I guess so,” Zen agrees, running his palms across Jumin’s shoulders. Jumin just holds himself up with both arms, gazing down as he watches Zen touch wherever his skin is showing. “You should relax more often.” Zen pulls him down once more, mouths connecting as he allows Jumin to deepen the kiss with a sliding of tongues and the sound of soft moans. Their hips buck together, Jumin grinding down while Zen lifts up needily.

They remain like that for a few moments, tongues dancing and hands searching as Jumin roams lower and lower, moving to unbutton Zen’s pants. Zen shoos him away softly, moving his hands to Jumin’s own belt, gesturing for him to unbuckle and unloop it from his slacks. He complies easily, tugging off his pants and staying only in his briefs, hardon visibly wet as he sits back on his heels.

“This feels a bit cold,” Jumin mentions. Whether his nipples are taut from the chill or his arousal, Zen doesn’t know, but he laughs either way.

“Now you know how I feel,” Zen grins cheekily. He grabs the blindfold and sits himself up on his heels as well, facing Jumin. “Now, are you sure you want to do this?” A nod. “Okay, but if you feel uncomfortable, just tell me and take it off, alright? I’m already having enough fun.”

“It’s always nice to try new things,” Jumin says as Zen ties the blindfold around his head, arms stretched out as he tries to tie the knot without looking. He’s never actually tied one himself, so it takes a few tries, but eventually he can sit back and admire the scene before him.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?” Jumin turns his head down and to the side on instinct despite his eyesight already being obscured. “You’re so beautiful, Jumin.” Zen inches closer and closer, though he doesn’t touch and only lets his breath ghost along Jumin’s cheek. Goosebumps rise on his arms. “I wish you could see yourself right now, but that would ruin the fun.”

“I guess I know your taste now,” Jumin teases, hands reaching out to find the hem of Zen’s shirt. Zen guides him with ease, lifting his hands up as Jumin lifts it higher and higher. He’s almost got it off, but it catches on his ponytail.

“W-Wait,” Zen cries out. “You’re gonna mess up my hair.” He ignores Jumin’s comment of _“Your hair is going to get messed up anyway”_ and carefully pulls his hair out of the shirt hole, frowning when a few strands fall down onto his cheeks.

“Is my princess ready to move on now?” Jumin asks. With nothing to see before him, he can only sit with his hands resting on his thighs, inching toward the growing warmth between his legs. Both the (slightly teasing) petname and sight of his boyfriend bring up a surge of impatience within Zen that causes his chest to flutter wildly.

Rather than give a finite answer, he brings Jumin’s hands toward his hips, leaving him to fumble with his pants while he watches. It’s almost cute to watch him struggle, but the way Jumin bites his lip in concentration and the growing bulge in his briefs only spurs on the arousal that blossoms within Zen’s chest, driving him absolutely mad as he watches with a hungry gaze.

Once his pants are unbuckled, Zen shimmies out of them and moans at the freedom his cock gets with only his boxers covering him. Jumin reaches for him, palming at the outline of his cock with slow, deliberate movements. He takes matters into his own hands and climbs into Jumin’s lap, arms wrapping around his neck while Jumin strokes him with calm movements. His hips rock gently, thighs brushing against Jumin’s length as he sighs against Jumin’s mouth, kissing him with nothing but tongue and a supple grace.

“Let’s take these off, yeah?” Zen mumbles, hands tugging on Jumin’s waistband. Jumin nods and pulls his briefs off while Zen removes his own boxers. He stares at Jumin with dilated eyes, cheeks flushed and lips wet as he turns around, pressing his back against Jumin’s chest.

Slowly, Zen brings Jumin’s hand down to stroke at his cock once more while the other hand rubs at the inside of his thigh, squeezing and pressing into his muscle with pressure alternating between rough and gentle. Zen can only let out a moan as he spreads his legs a little wider, finally looking at himself in the mirror.

Jumin kisses down at his neck, breath hot and teeth pulling at his skin harshly. He can see the way his stomach dips in and relaxes outward every time Jumin pumps with rough strokes, chest rising with labored breaths as his eyes move lower to watch Jumin’s movements. He watches him tease at the head of his cock, slicking him up with precome, fingers pressing closer and closer to his entrance. Zen lifts his hips up in an attempt to get _more_ , but Jumin holds him down. He may be the one with sight, but he wouldn’t be the one to take charge. Zen’s breath hitches in his throat.

The thought of Jumin keeping his dominant role, even while blinded, drags a moan out from Zen. He thinks of what Jumin must be feeling, what he must be _hearing_. He knows all too well what the lack of sight does to the other senses, and as he thinks of the way Jumin seems to be hyperfocused on both the head of his cock and the small bounces he does with his hips, he can’t stop himself from throwing his head back.

“This is what you see all the time, right?” Zen asks, voice husky. “You’re really missing out.” Jumin rocks up against Zen’s ass, breaths stuttering. “If only you could see this. If only you could see _me_ , my legs spread just for you. You make me feel so good, but I’d feel even better with you fucking me.” Jumin lets out the first hinting of a moan, voice low and hands speeding up as he continues to press his cock against Zen’s ass. “I want you i-inside of me. I want to watch you-- _ahh--_ fuck me hard.”

“ _Zen_ ,” he groans, “Lay down on your back. Now.”

Grinning to himself, Zen turns around and leans back until he’s pressed down against the sheets, neck lifted up slightly to get a look at Jumin. He lowers himself as well, legs shuffling back as he positions his face between Zen’s legs. He’s preparing himself for a blowjob, but as Jumin’s hands pull at his ass and his mouth slowly kisses its way toward his entrance, Zen throws his head back once more and stares at his reflection.

His cheeks are flushed, pupils blown out with pleasure. Zen breathes out harshly, each pant fogging up the mirror slightly, but he continues to stare at himself as Jumin licks at him with a yielding tongue and moans that only serve to please Zen. He lets out a whimper in response, arm flying up to cover his mouth.

“Let me hear you,” Jumin speaks up. “Tell me what you see.” His voice is level, but Zen can pick up the way he strains to keep himself together. Zen nods to himself, back arching as Jumin’s tongue presses into him, hands holding his legs open.

“I feel so needy,” Zen laughs, voice breaking. He’s not sure whether he’s coming undone by Jumin’s tongue or if it’s just the thought of the situation at hand, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I can see y-your hands stretching me wide. It feels like I’m putting on a show just for you. But I’m not doing anything and you’re-- fuck. You’re the one eating me out. Holy _shit right there, Jumin_.” He turns back and stares at himself in the mirror once more, mouth babbling incoherent words as one of Jumin’s hands move up to grab at his own. He’s ready to lock fingers, but Jumin leads him down lower so he can tangle his digits in his hair. Zen does as he’s told, gripping onto the blankets with one hand while the other pulls at dark locks. Zen rolls his hips slowly as Jumin slows his pace as well, enjoying the lazy movements of Jumin’s tongue pressing into him. He takes control of his legs and wraps them around Jumin’s neck, pulling him in closer.

“As much as I love it when you eat me out,” Zen says shakily, “I really, _really_ want you to fuck me.”

“There’s lube somewhere next to you,” Jumin says as he pulls away. Zen nods as he pulls his legs away, leaning over to sift through the pile of clothes in order to find the lube. It ends up being beneath the corner of the blankets, and Zen grabs it and sits up in a swift movement, almost bumping heads with Jumin. His ass feels weird as he sits up, but he ignores it as he squeezes lube into his palm, closing his fist to hopefully warm it up a bit.

“What are you-- _oh_ ,” Jumin sighs. His head rolls to the side as the tension in his shoulders dissipate, chest caving in as he breathes out. Zen’s hand jerks him off, twisting and pumping erratically as he brings Jumin close to the edge. If he tried to pull this any other time he’s sure that Jumin would berate him, but after going so long with no attention to his throbbing cock, the frenzied strokes feel like heaven to him.

Zen sneaks a glance back to the mirror, breath catching as he watches Jumin buck up, fucking into his hand. He slows his movements just slightly, and sure enough Jumin speeds up his own thrusts, desperate for any sort of contact. Zen’s neck cranes back even more, taking in the sight of his mussed up hair, disorganized and most likely tangled where it cascades down his shoulders, and the array of hickeys that stain his skin, small blots ranging from a light pink to a harsh red bordering on violet. Although he’s watching, the feel of Jumin’s hands running over his nipples surprise him, causing him to tighten his grip on Jumin.

“I want to feel you,” Jumin whispers. “I want you beneath me, crying out my name.” His teeth latch onto Zen’s collarbone, dragging down lightly. “It’s a shame I can’t see you. You always look your best with my name on your lips.”

Zen gives a few more pumps before pulling away, gently leading Jumin away from his chest and pressing the bottle of lube in his hands.

“Hands and knees, yeah?” Zen asks. Jumin gives a nod, so he switches his position and turns around, holding himself up with his hands and he waits for Jumin to find his way back to him.

“Tell me when you’re ready to move on,” Jumin instructs, one finger poised at his entrance. He slips it in easily and moves his finger in and out slowly, attempting to curl it a bit. Zen rocks back against him, so he takes that as a sign to move one and adds another finger. This one slides in with little difficulty as well, but as he moves them back and forth in tandem, he can hear the hiss in Zen’s voice. “Should I stop?”

“N-No, keep going,” Zen spits out. “It’s nothing too bad.” He lowers himself to his forearms, muscles straining slightly as he keeps himself up. He sneaks a peek at the mirror once again and almost laughs at his reflection. His hair looks like a bird’s nest, ponytail dipping down painfully low, and his back arches up as he tries to relax. A couple of minutes pass before he can safely urge Jumin to insert another finger. An emptiness follows his approval along with the sound of a cap opening, and when Jumin gets back to work his hand is marginally wetter than it was before. The slick of his fingers is welcomed and makes the third finger a little easier to handle.

“Make sure to breathe,” Jumin reminds him.

“How could I, when you take my breath away?” Zen laughs.

Jumin inserts a fourth finger and really does steal his breath.

“Ah, okay, _fuck you_ ,” Zen says in a quick exhale. “Hurry up already.” He watches as Jumin removes his fingers and sidles up to him, hands gripping his hips.

“Actually, there should be a condom there, too,” Jumin mutters. “I’m fairly certain I brought one along as well.”

 _Okay, Mood Killer._ Zen reaches over with a huff, hand searching underneath the blanket as he feels around for the foil. After a few seconds of searching, he finds it and opens it with his teeth, spitting out the wrapper that gets caught in his mouth. He passes it back to Jumin, glad that he’s got enough experience putting it on that it takes nearly no time at all.

Finally, _finally_ , Jumin presses against him, the head of his cock slowly inching in. Zen bites back a gasp and rests his head against the blanket, waiting for Jumin to push in further. His shoulders lift up as Jumin bottoms out, straining against the downward curve of his neck as he breathes into the sheets. He waits for pain to turn into pleasure, relaxing as Jumin’s hand wraps around his cock to help ease the transition.

Another couple of minutes pass before Zen feels confident enough. He gives the go ahead and sighs when Jumin starts out slow, pulling out slightly and pushing back in at a leisurely pace. They keep that momentum for a while, unhurried in their efforts as their movements eventually pick up.

God, he looks beautiful.

Zen stares up at himself with longing. His eyes follow the curve of his spine, the way his waist dips in just slightly before widening at his hips. He watches Jumin thrust into him with a deep sort of fluidity, moving at just the right moments that leave Zen satisfied even as he pulls out. He watches Jumin’s hand stroke lazily at his cock, thumb swirling around precome as he jerks back and forth. He sees every change in expression on his face, every time his face freezes at the feeling of Jumin hitting his g-spot, every time his mouth widens suddenly with a slur of _Jumin, Jumin, Jumin_ when he gets fucked rougher than expected.

He lifts one hand and undoes what is left of his ponytail, allowing the fine strands to breathe for a few instances. Not long after, he has his hair tie on his wrist and the majority of his hair resting on his shoulder. With some trembling motions, Zen leads Jumin’s hand away from his cock and up to his hair, allowing him to grab a fistful of it and tug experimentally. The pain doesn’t do much for him, but the sight of Jumin holding his head back while he’s bent over for him does _wonders_ for his growing release.

“ _Ah,_ I’m close,” Zen moans out. “Please, Jumin, I’m s-so close.” He oscillates back, meeting Jumin and matching every thrust. His breathing goes ragged, his mouth opens wide to let out a cry, and he can see himself stutter in the mirror as he cums, eyes threatening to close shut as he watches himself ride out his orgasm. Jumin continues to tug at his hair, fucking him harder and faster as he reaches his own climax, finally leaning over with short breaths as he finishes.

Jumin gently unwraps Zen’s hair from around his fist, letting it fall to the side. He pulls out after a few seconds, slipping off the condom and tying it as best he can. Zen feels him slump over next to him, arm stretched over his chest as they lay there together. It takes a few moments for them to regulate their breathing, but once Zen feels calm enough he finds himself laughing at Jumin.

“Your blindfold is still on,” Zen points out. Jumin scrunches his nose up, so Zen takes it upon himself to pull it up and off of his face, placing it off to the side before he brushes Jumin’s hair away from his forehead. His eyes are still closed, eyelashes stuck together from having been pressed down for so long.

“You’re staring at me,” Jumin says. He keeps his eyes shut, too tired and used to the darkness to bother opening them right now.

Zen hums in response and leans down to press a kiss on his lips. When he leans away, Jumin’s head picks up slightly and chases after him, lips parted as he asks for another kiss. Zen gives in and connects their mouths in a languid kiss, soaking in the heat of the afterglow.

“I-” _muah_ “Love-” _muah_ “You.” He presses small pecks in between each word, finishing off his declaration with one final press of his lips to Jumin’s forehead.

“And I love you,” Jumin reciprocates, pulling Zen down to rest his cheek against his chest. “Now let me rest.”

“Aw, no round two?” Zen teases. He certainly hopes Jumin doesn’t agree just to spite him. He’s not sure his stamina could last for much longer.

“I’m getting old,” Jumin responds along with a twitch of the eyebrows.

Zen only sticks his tongue out before allowing himself to melt into Jumin’s touch, secure and warm as he feels an arm snake around him and a hand rest at his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> look i love zen and zen loves zen so mirrors were an obvious choice
> 
> i might ,, write another one of these


End file.
